


The Parting Glass

by trappednightingale



Series: Amaranth [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Easter Rising 1916, Historical Accuracy, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trappednightingale/pseuds/trappednightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has watched the world go by, and has watched the souls of a few of his friends return to this world only for their lives to be taken shortly after they begin to remember their past lives. It is not until the early 1900's that he finds Gwaine in a small pub in Dublin, Ireland. The two become friends instantly, despite Gwaine not remembering his past life yet. Through secrets, inner turmoil, and political unrest that could likely lead to a revolution in this section of Albion, a romance forms and Merlin must soon make a choice: leave before Gwaine remembers in order to save his life, or attempt to fight fate to hold on to the man he's grown to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A darkness had fallen over Albion in recent years. Countless centuries had passed and the land had ceased to be familiar to Merlin, lonely as he was on the shore of the isolated lake containing what had once been Avalon. He rarely even left his shack, save to gather supplies, or when a surprisingly constant companion would force him to venture out to the nearby village for a hot meal and cool drink. For it was Sir Leon who had once again managed to escape the grasp of death and who, like Merlin himself, had barely aged even through the centuries. 

“Just…blessed by dragonfire, I suppose.” Leon had laughed one night over a drink at the town’s tavern. Merlin hadn’t been convinced of the levity nature of the situation, but a few more pints convinced him that it really didn’t matter right then, as long as he wasn’t alone for the years following Camelot’s fall. As Albion continued to change, Merlin and Leon began to venture out—that is to say, Leon would venture out and Merlin would stay firmly put, thank you very much—and agreed to meet at least once a year, roughly around the time of the first snowfall of the season. Some years, Leon would stay through the harsh winters, using the time to catch Merlin up with the changes going on in their world. Other years, especially as civilization grew and the inhabitants of Albion began to discover and create better ways of surviving the colder months, he would stay for only a day or two and then venture out again. Merlin never begrudged him that, was always happy to see him and only slightly saddened to say goodbye. 

The wizard had taken up writing, filling countless journals with stories of his past, others with spells he’d created or altered in his years of living. Although he used his spare time to learn and create new magic, he refused to use it for any other reason, holding fast to the vow he’d made before Arthur’s passing: that he had and would continue to only use magic for his king. This made his loneliness that much harder to bear and as he continued to observe civilizations both nearby and far away through Leon’s storytelling, he began to wonder when it was that Arthur would return. 

It was a winter at the beginning of the 20th century that brought Leon to Merlin's door once again, this time with the intention of staying for the duration of the season. 

"Your hair's grown long." Merlin said by way of greeting, the closest thing to fondness he could manage in his voice. 

"It's good to see you, too, old friend." Leon laughed, shaking the little snow out of his hair before crossing the threshold into the old shack. One of the few spells that Merlin had done in his presence was one protecting the small dwelling from the harsher elements, keeping it a pleasant temperature year-round despite the typically abysmal weather. 

Despite the many years of the house's existence, it had suffered neither decay nor weathering due to Merlin's protective spell. Leon was fully aware of the power which Merlin possessed, the revealing of which being unfortunately another story for another time, and it never ceased to amaze him, even after literally centuries of observing the wizard. He smiled and gave a nod of thanks as Merlin pressed a warm mug of some kind of cider into his shaking hands, then moved to sit in one of the armchairs he'd brought to Merlin in a previous visit. Merlin took the seat across from him, clutching a mug of his own.

“How have things been?” Leon asked.

“The same as always.” Merlin’s lips twitched, betraying a grimace for only a brief moment before the familiar mask of impassiveness was once again on his face. It was a code they’d developed decades ago, Leon’s way of asking whether or not his king had returned without having to be harsh and actually bring up the subject of Arthur. The years hadn’t made it easier on Merlin, the wound still feeling as fresh as it had the day his king had passed from this life into the next.

"I wish I could say the same for the world outside." Leon didn't miss a beat, already segueing into the next topic. Before long, he was regaling Merlin with stories of all that had transpired in the past year; of a man who'd crossed the English channel with a metal device that enabled men to fly--something they'd dubbed the aeroplane in previous years; of the passing of the crown from one monarch to the next, George V; of women who were beginning to rise up against oppression by demanding equal rights. On and on Leon went, barely pausing for breath between one news item and the next until finally Merlin held up a hand.

"Enough, enough! I don't need to know about what you've heard about unrest in countries near this one, or about the politics of the current monarchy."

"You don't need to know, but you ought to. The world hasn't stopped just because you have, you know. You'll need to be caught up if--"

"I'll cross that bridge if I ever get to it." 

Leon was quiet and averted his gaze, taking a sip of the remaining cider in his mug.

"What?" Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's just...that's the first time you've ever talked about his return as a mere possibility instead of a certainty." 

Merlin winced at that and rose to his feet, crossing the room and turning away from Leon to gaze out the window, taking in the calm waters of the nearby lake and the much-decayed remnants of Avalon.

"It's been centuries, Leon. Can you really blame me for giving up hope?"

"That's why you should come out with me some time. Cast a protective spell over this place--" He was cut off by Merlin's scoff, and he quickly amended his statement. "Cast additional protective spells over this place and...take a break. Go out, see the world, or at the very least what's become of Albion."

Merlin kept his gaze fixed firmly on the lake, refusing to face Leon even as he spoke.

"There's nothing for me out there, Leon. Not anymore."

“Well you’ll never know if you never leave, will you?”

Merlin turned and shot him a glare, letting him know that the topic was closed. There was a stubborn set to Leon’s jaw for a moment, but he finally sighed and changed the subject. This was a battle they’d been fighting for decades at the very least, and it didn’t take a clairvoyant to see that this would not be the year that Leon would win.


	2. Chapter 2

The year Leon finally won the aforementioned battle was, sadly, a year where the kind knight was nowhere near Merlin’s home. The winter of 1914 came and went with no sign of the knight save for a letter explaining that he'd gone to the territory of Ireland and would return to Merlin's home before the turn of the year. 

When the turn of the year came, Merlin was prompted to finally acquiesce to the request made over four years prior and cast a few protective charms on the home, don some of the clothes Leon had brought him as incentive to leave a few years prior, pack a bag with the few other items of clothing Leon had brought him as well as the surprisingly large amount of modern money that the knight had given him over the years and finally, finally leave the small, not entirely metaphorical barrier he'd created between himself and the world. It was terrifying, how different Albion had become in his self-imposed exile. Everything felt different, from the air to even the ground beneath his feet. It was only a few hours' walk that brought him to the nearest town, a small place with no more than a hundred inhabitants. 

Remembering an old tip from adventuring with Arthur, he immediately found the town's busiest and only pub where he orders a pint and simply...waits. He listened carefully to the gossip, to the barmaids whispering their fears to each other, to the men grumbling about how the changes of the world are negatively affecting their lives, to the women vocalizing their concerns that their men will have to go to war soon. 

"Sorry to bother you, but...What's everyone talking about?" Merlin asked the barmaid who approached him with a fresh tankard of ale to replace the one he'd depleted in the past hour.

"Don't you know? There's a war going on, love. They're saying it's affecting the whole world and I'm praying they're wrong." She gave him an odd look. "You'd have to have been living under a rock not to have at least heard about it. It's been going on for almost a year already..."

"Sorry, bit of a hermit." Merlin shrugged apologetically and pressed a few bills into her hand, knowing fully well that it was well over the cost of the beverage itself. She smiled in appreciation before turning her attention to other bar patrons, leaving Merlin to his thoughts. 

If what she said was true, Albion was at war with...the rest of the world. Knowing Leon, he'd fled to Ireland in an attempt to avoid the war as much as possible, and frankly, Merlin didn't blame him in the slightest. After the fall of Camelot, Leon had stumbled into his shack, battered and bruised and weary and had sworn while Merlin did his best to tend to his multitude of wounds that he would be damned before ever engaging in combat again. It wasn't a cowardly oath, merely one made by a man who'd lost everything that mattered in his world, everything worth fighting for. 

By the time the barmaid returned, Merlin had begun to formulate a plan, or the closest thing to a plan he could with what limited information he currently had about the world around him. 

"How far away would you say Ireland was, Miss?" He asked, pulling the letter from Leon out of his knapsack and consulting it for a brief moment. "Specifically...Dublin?"

"I don't know much about traveling, sir, but I know Ireland's across a good deal of water, and you'd be hard-pressed to find someone to bring you over in times like these." She bit her lip, seemingly at war with herself for a moment before finally speaking again, her voice low. "Although... I have a brother who lives on the coast. Makes his living honestly but on the side...Let's just say he helps out souls such as yourself. It'll cost you, though."

"Would you be willing to direct me to him?"

She bit her lip again, and Merlin quickly passed over a few more bills, causing her to nod slowly. "His name's Crispin, he lives a few hours northwest of here, in Burnham-on-Sea. Tell him Rose sent you, that you're willing to pay double, and he'll cut you a good deal." She hurriedly pocketed the bills, then gave Merlin a brief smile. "I hope you find whatever you're looking for over there. Best of luck to you."

Merlin thanked her, then returned to his ale, downing it quickly then pushing away from the table. There was an adventure to be had, and there was no point in delaying it any further. He had no intentions of losing another friend, his last friend in the world. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he was rather excited about seeing the world. He'd grown bitter in the stagnation and the more he breathed fresh air, the more he realized how much he missed the optimism and borderline care-free nature he'd once had. Perhaps it was time to let his heart warm again.


	3. Chapter 3

Rather than keeping his perpetually youthful appearance, he chose to don his familiar disguise, knowing that people would be less suspicious of an elderly hermit than of a young recluse. Despite the handicap that accompanied his elderly appearance, his journey didn't take him as long as expected, partially due to the kindness of strangers who offered to take him part of the way, and partially due to how quickly time flew when he was busy observing all of humanity. There were machines that even Leon's colorful descriptions could not have possibly prepared him for, and even the language had changed somewhat, something he picked up in Leon's speech and slightly altered accent, although he hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly what was changing as time went on.

 

By the time he arrived at Burnham-on-Sea, he was already tired and decided to stop at the inn for the night so he could have more energy for seeking out the smuggler Crispin in the morning. A few scraps of paper money bought him a room for the night as well as a hot meal and bath-- a truly magical experience for a man who'd been heating his own lake water for bathing for the past few centuries.

 

Morning came and brought with it a feeling of urgency, so Merlin wasted no time in packing his things and setting out into the town. A quick conversation with the innkeeper directed him to Crispin's shop. Rose wasn't kidding, the man obviously made more than enough to support himself with the fishing business. It surprised Merlin that such a man would even consider smuggling, but after meeting him, it became apparent that the man didn't smuggle for the money. There was a kind air about him, and when Merlin mentioned Rose's name, a look of compassion covered his features.

 

"Listen, mate, I don't know what you're running from or to, that's not my place but...I'll help you. Rose wouldn't have sent you if she didn't think it was important." He clapped Merlin on the shoulder and led him towards the ramshackle marina where a small boat was docked. Merlin thanked him for his help and followed him below decks where there were a few hammocks strung up as well as a small crate of canned foods.

 

"So, where are you headed, then?" Crispin asked, pulling a pillow and blanket out of another crate, below one of the hammocks.

 

"Dublin, I think. I'm looking--" Merlin was cut off as Crispin held up a hand and he gave him a questioning look.

 

"The less I know, the better. Makes me less liable in case there's something afoot." His eyes twinkled, but his expression was solemn so Merlin immediately nodded in response.

 

"Yes, of course, you're right. Terribly sorry."

 

"Right, then. Dublin..." Crispin placed the bedding down on one of the lower hammocks, then crossed his arms. "Dublin's a bit too guarded for me to take you there, I’m afraid. But I’ll take you as far as Blackrock, and it should be less than a day’s journey from there to Dublin.”

 

"Why are you helping me? You barely know me."

 

"I know a good soul when I see one." Crispin shrugged. "And I trust Rose. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some business above deck. There's a long journey ahead of us, so I advise you get comfortable. If you need anything, rap three times on that door."

 

Merlin nodded gratefully again, then turned to survey the small room he'd be occupying for...however long. There were eight makeshift hammocks hung throughout the room, suspended with rope that was tied in knots that looked to be easy enough to untie, yet firm enough to support a great deal of weight. There were several crates throughout the room, some empty large enough to store men twice his size, others full to the brim with various clothing items and still others holding various food items. It was obvious that this was nowhere near Crispin's first smuggling job, and it was unlikely that it would be his last. Something in Merlin's heart warmed at that knowledge, in knowing that there were still men in the world who were good, who desired nothing more than to help others. He was slowly beginning to see that Albion was not as damned as he once thought it to be.

 

In total, the trip took four days, with a few stops that brought Merlin two new traveling companions, a young woman and man by the name of Sally and Bill, running away from some sort of family dispute regarding their romance, from what Merlin could tell. They left him alone for the most part, and he was grateful that they didn’t feel the need to pry into his life, or ask why such an old man was traveling on his own. He left them behind when Crispin pulled into a small dock in Blackrock. Before he came above deck, Merlin took a few items of clothing from the crate, stuffing them into his knapsack before pulling out enough money to cover the fare of the trip as well as the clothes he’d taken.

 

“I’ve got to stop for supplies, do some trading so these two will have clothes warm enough for their destination.” Crispin explained as he left the boat by Merlin’s side.

 

“Thank you for your help. You’re a good man.” Merlin said gruffly as he pressed the money into Crispin’s hand in the mimicry of a handshake. Crispin immediately pocketed the money, then clapped him gently on the shoulder.

 

“I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors. Whatever they may be.” He smiled, releasing Merlin’s shoulder. “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, sir.”

 

“Yours as well. Best of wishes to you.” Merlin raised an old, weathered hand in farewell before turning and walking into the town, looking around warily at the unfamiliar surroundings.

 

As he wandered around the small town, Merlin realized that the magic was beginning to take its toll on him. Rather than continuing to drain his energy by keeping up the illusion, he quickly ducked into an abandoned alleyway and wasted no time in taking down the illusion, feeling the familiar magic tingling at his fingertips before finally, he felt like his normal self.

 

He wandered through the town aimlessly for a little bit, taking the time to familiarize himself with the strange modern world in which he now found himself. It was strange, how similar this town was to many towns he’d visited in his days in Camelot, even though it was still somehow at the same time, completely different. He found himself noticing the similarities, the common energies, the familiar sights of mothers racing after children, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air as he passed an open home. It was comforting to him to see that the world wasn’t quite so different after all, even despite the hundreds of years he’d been absent from it. Before long, he stumbled across an inn which also served as a tavern. Sensing that he’d be more likely to get helpful advice from the tavern-inn than he would anywhere else, Merlin decided to stop in for a drink.

 

Entering the building and being careful not to draw too much attention to himself, Merlin avoided looking at anyone or anything and moved straight to the bar, where several men were already seated despite the relatively early hour of the day. The large fellow he chose to sat next to looked at him with a look that was somewhere between judgmental and curious, then returned his attention to the food and ale in front of him.

 

“ _Cead míle fáilte_! What can I get for ya, darlin’?” The woman tending the bar asked, wiping her hands on her apron as she turned to face him with a kind smile. Her hair was shorter than any woman he’d ever encountered and he tried not to look to confused about the matter.

 

“Um, I’ll just—”

 

“Oh, dear, you’re not from around here, are ye?” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I thought it a bit odd, we don’t get many newcomers around here. Well, not to worry. I’ll keep an eye out for ye. First pint’s on me. I’m Frankie, by the way.”

 

“Thank you. I’m Merlin.” He supplied, somewhat surprised at how friendly she was being despite her surroundings.

 

“Merlin? What, like that batty old wizard ye hear stories about? Oh ye poor dear. Your mam must’ve had quite the sense of humor.” She laughed quietly as she passed him a glass full of a darker liquid than was in the glass of the man next to him. “This is our signature stout. Ye can have whatever ya like when you’re done with that, but I doubt ye’ll want anything else once you’ve tried it.”

 

“You say that to all the lads and yet still all of us prefer the lighter brew.” A familiar voice called out, causing Merlin’s heart to stop in his chest. The glass fell from his fingers as he turned, and the man next to him cursed, but he couldn’t hear him. Nothing in the world mattered more than the man standing in front of him, the familiar long hair and cocky smile firmly in place. The thick brogue was a far cry from the soft tones he’d grown so familiar with, but there was no other way to differentiate the man from back then to the man in front of him.

 

“Gwaine?” He asked, somewhat breathlessly, and the man in front of him laughed.

 

“I hadn’t realized my reputation was that bad that even the Brits had heard of me.”

 

Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted as the man next to him roughly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away.

 

“Oi! Ye dropped her feckin pint on me, y—”

 

“Oh, you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of a pickle, haven’t you?” Gwaine asked, eyes twinkling as he approached the pair. “No, Seamus, there’s no need for that sort of language, now. He didn’t mean any harm, did ye…?” he trailed off, looking to Merlin for input.

 

“No, it was just an accident. He surprised me, that’s all.” Merlin promised, turning his attention to the man currently holding on to his shoulder.

 

“I was going for your name, but an apology will work too. More than he usually gets from trouble makers, that’s for sure.”

 

“Shut yer gob, Gwaine. Yer a good-for-nothing scoundrel yourself, and I’ve half a mind to—”

 

“None of that now.” The room fell silent at the loud slamming of a plate on the bar top, and Merlin found himself more than slightly impressed at Frankie’s ability to stand up to such a rough-looking man. “Seamus, ye know yer missus would have yer head if she could hear you carryin on like that. The poor lad dropped a pint, there’s been no harm ‘cept yer shoes are a wee bit wet. Let bygones be bygones, or I’ll see you out.” There was a steely glint in her eyes as she spoke and slowly, the man released his hold on Merlin.

 

“There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gwaine laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder, who wasted no time in roughly shrugging him off.

 

“ _Póg mo thóin_.” The man muttered under his breath before reaching into his pocket and slamming a few bills on the bar top before storming out of the pub.

 

“Pay him no mind, he’s a bit of a hothead.” Gwaine whispered conspiratorially to Merlin, sliding into the seat that Seamus had previously occupied. Merlin grinned in response, then froze, realizing that was the first time he’d smiled in—before he could even complete the thought, Gwaine was speaking again.

 

“What do they call you, then?”

 

Merlin’s smile faltered at that, even despite the familiarity of the words first spoken to him so many years ago. “You…you don’t know who I am?”

 

“Can’t say that I do, but I would surely like to.”

 

“It’s Merlin.” Frankie supplied, giving Merlin a wink. “And he’ll be buying ye a pint to thank ye for yer trouble, won’t he?”

 

“Yes, absolutely.” Merlin quickly replied, trying to shake himself from the frozen state Gwaine’s question had left him in.

 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Gwaine’s smile broadened. “Staying in town long?”

 

“I…hadn’t really thought too far ahead, to be honest.” Merlin found himself replying, despite the still-present concern for Leon at the back of his mind.

 

“Not that you can talk, Gwaine.” Frankie chided him lightly, passing over two pints of a lighter drink than the thick, dark stout she’d poured earlier. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in months!”

 

Merlin looked over at Gwaine as he took a brief sip of the drink. “Bit of a hopeless wanderer?”

 

“Something like that.” Gwaine shrugged in response, taking a much larger drink from his own glass. “I never stay in one place for very long. People get sick of me too quickly.”

 

Merlin’s expression softened at that and he turned to look at Gwaine, really look at him. There was not even a shadow of a doubt in his mind that this man was Gwaine, his Gwaine, the knight of Camelot. But this was the nineteen hundreds in a small town of Ireland, worlds apart from their time in Camelot. Even if Gwaine didn’t remember him, or anything of his past life…it was still Gwaine and Merlin realized he wasn’t sure he wanted to abandon this man, not when the soul of his friend was still obviously within him.

 

“Somehow, I doubt that. You seem very likeable.” Merlin finally replied, realizing he’d been quiet for a moment too long.

 

“Perhaps you just haven’t been around me enough.” Gwaine moved to take another drink from his glass, then paused and raised it towards Merlin. “To new friends.”

 

Merlin gave a half smile at that, and as he slowly raised his glass, made the decision to stay. By the time his glass clinked against Gwaine’s, a full smile was on his lips.

 

“To new friends.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> *“Cead míle fáilte!”—a hundred thousand welcomes!
> 
> *“Shut yer gob”—shut your mouth
> 
> *“Póg mo thóin”—kiss my ass


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning was a rather painful mirror to one that had occurred years ago, with Merlin entering the double bedroom he and Gwaine had shared the night before, carrying a tray laden with whatever breakfast item Frankie had concocted. A fond smile crossed his lips as Gwaine stirred, looking around warily as he stretched. Gwaine himself grinned as his eyes landed on Merlin and he pushed himself up into a sitting position against the headboard.

“What am I doing in this bed?” 

Gods, Merlin had forgotten how suggestive Gwaine had sounded that first time, and the thick brogue did nothing to counter the inquisitive tone in his voice. 

“Nothing untoward, get your mind out of the gutter.” Merlin rolled his eyes, moving to sit on the edge of Gwaine’s bed, putting the tray down on the mattress. “You tried to outdrink me and failed. Frankie’s brother, Andrew I think it was? Well, whatever his name was, he helped me get you up here, where you proceeded to pass out.” 

Gwaine leaned forward, slightly into Merlin’s space as he picked up a grape from the tray. “Well, twas very kind of you and I thank you for it.” 

“It was the least I could do. That whole mess with Seamus…it would have gotten much worse if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“You’re right, it could have turned into a proper barfight. Pity it didn’t, eh?” His eyes twinkled as he plucked a few more grapes and tossed them into his mouth. 

Merlin rolled his eyes and took a slice of apple off of the tray.

"Oh, don't give me that look, it was a joke. Mostly." Gwaine's fingers brushed against Merlins as he reached for a slice of apple as well and he gave him a brief wink. "So, Merlin. You never told me what brought you to our fair town." 

Merlin was quiet for a moment, pretending to chew for much longer than necessary. "I...I was looking for a friend. We got separated because of...the war, and the last time I heard from him, he was in Dublin."

"Dublin? You do know you're in Blackrock, right?"

"This is as far as I got. Figured I could take a break, since I'd been on that boat for ages."

Gwaine looked at him, cocking his head as he popped another apple slice into his mouth. "You're one of Crispin's lot, aren't you?" 

"I probably shouldn't say one way or the other, should I?" Merlin replied, giving Gwaine a slight smirk. 

"Oh, I knew I was going to like you." Gwaine laughed, picking up a spoon and sampling the hot cereal. "You've got to try this, mate. I swear, she gets better every morning. When she first started here, she could barely make gruel. Now look at her, serving porridge you can actually eat!"

"You seem fond of Frankie." Merlin remarked, picking up the second spoon and trying the dish. 

"Nothing to be jealous of, dear. The lass is like a sister to me. I've known her for as long as I can remember. Her family was good to me, gave me a home when I needed one and didn't make a fuss when I started wandering. I still try to drop in now and again, though. Let em know I'm still alive. I'm certainly glad I dropped in when I did, else I would have missed meeting you."

"Putting on a lot of charm for a man who's going to be gone within the hour from what I can tell." Merlin teased lightly, his gaze falling to the fruit on the plate in front of him. 

Gwaine was solemn when he spoke again, reaching out to clasp Merlin's shoulder. "Come with me."

"What? That's ridiculous, you barely even--"

"I don't care that we've only just met. Come with me. I could take you to Dublin, maybe make a few stops along the way. I could show you the best my home has to offer."

"Your home?"

"Ireland, Merlin. I don't claim one city or town any more than the other. This land is my home."

"I can't just...I can't abandon my friend, Gwaine. He could be dead for all I know."

"Then we'll go looking for him, first."

"I'm not..." Merlin struggled to find words. "Even getting here was a struggle. I haven't left my own home in...a very long time, and I would not have done so if I didn't think it was important." 

"I fail to see the harm in broadening your horizons. I mean...stepping outside your own door is half the battle, isn't it?"

"Not all of us are born wanderers like you, Gwaine. All I want is to find my friend and then...go home."

"I know I've only just met you, but...Merlin, even you can't deny that something in you wants to agree, wants to come with me. I can see it in your eyes."

Merlin bit his lip, trying to come up with a reason to say no that would make sense to this man. He'd never been able to resist Gwaine's influence back in Camelot, and he was equally damned in this situation. But a large part of his soul was bound to Avalon, to the promise he'd made to himself and to Leon: that he would wait, that he would be there for the return of... But he was Emrys, wasn't he? A powerful wizard with strong ties to Avalon. If ever the waters stirred...he would feel it in his soul, wouldn't he? 

"When do we leave?"


	5. Chapter 5

The heart of Dublin was only a few hours walk from the tiny inn in Blackrock and as soon as Merlin crossed the city limits, he was overwhelmed with the sheer size of the place. 

“This is a city?” 

“The heart and soul of Ireland is here in Dublin. This city…it has a heartbeat, if you listen close enough for it. It may not be my favorite place throughout the land, but…even I can’t fight the draw of that kind of energy, you know?” 

Looking around the city, so obviously full of life and hope, even despite the dark times the world was in, Merlin gave a quick nod. "I think I know what you mean."

"I thought you might. Now, come on! There are beers to be drank and fights to start and friends to find and we'll accomplish none of the above if we stay here admiring the view." Gwaine clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder and pulled him off in one direction, clearly having a good idea as to where he was going. 

"There's my girl." Gwaine laughed as they came to a stop in front of a bright green door. "This is the home of my dear Maureen. Her heart and door's always open for all Dublin, if you catch my meaning. If anyone's seen your friend, she'll know." He knocked twice on the front door, which immediately swung open to reveal a woman with shockingly red hair, falling in curls around her face and down to her waist. She was half in the process of pinning it up, but she stopped as soon as she saw who it was. 

"Oh, Gwaine, you've not come by in ages! I half thought you'd fled to America and left me behind." She pouted, her lips somehow a deeper shade of red than her hair. "Do try to stop by more, won't ye?"

"Oh my dearest Maureen, you know I won't." Gwaine smiled, reaching out and taking her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. "I've actually come to ask a favor--"

"You know the flat upstairs is always open for ye to use."

"Thank you, we might take you up on that, actually." Gwaine exchanged a quick glance with Merlin, who merely shrugged. "We're actually looking for someone, hoped you might have bumped into him."

"His name's Leon...his accent is similar to mine. He's taller than me, curly hair, light beard last I saw?" Merlin supplied. Maureen bit her lip for a moment, cocking her head as she thought. 

"Sounds familiar, but you know so many pass through this door." She winked at Gwaine, then returned her attention to Merlin. "If I did see him, it was a good fortnight ago. He didn't stay long, not like most do. Just asked where he could find an inn and was on his way." 

"Which inn did you send him to?" Gwaine asked.

"I sent him over to the Twelve Pins, of course." 

"Kiely's place, hm?" 

"Oh, don't give me that look. You know he treats their lot much better than any one else around these parts would. The Brotherhood have been muttering about rebellion and who knows what could have happened if they'd encountered your friend during one of their meetings." She crossed her arms defiantly. "Now are ye borrowin the flat or not?"

"I think we will, thanks." Merlin spoke for Gwaine, ignoring the other man's curious look. "We'll put our things down, then pop out for a bit, yeah?"

"Sounds lovely. If you need anything, stomp on the floor three times and if I'm free, I'll do what I can for ye." She smiled and gestured for them to enter, pecking Merlin on the cheek as he walked past her. He flushed red, causing Gwaine to burst into laughter. 

"Get used to Maureen. She's no concept of personal space or propriety. Makes for a good drinking companion."

"Only because I can drink ye under the table twice over." She called out from behind them as they ascended the stairs, Merlin following Gwaine's lead. "Try not to cause too much trouble, won't ye?"

"I make no promises!" Gwaine laughed, wrapping an arm around Merlin's shoulders. "Now, if he went to Kiely's, that'll cause a bit of trouble for us. The man has no memory for anything save for his bloody pigeons. But if we're lucky, Kitty was tending the bar when your friend came in. The girl has a mind for people. You could come in one time in all your life and order a whiskey sour and not return for seventy years. As soon as you're through the door again, she'll have a whiskey sour poured for you without even asking and will ask about the wife you only mentioned in passing. I'm telling you, Merlin, it's uncanny."

"She sounds fascinating."

"Everyone's fascinating if you give them long enough to tell their story." Gwaine retorted, putting his pack on the bed closest to the door and surveying the room. 

"I can't believe she gave us these rooms for free." Merlin said, looking around as well.

"Oh, no, nothing's ever free. She'll be asking all sorts of favors from us as long as we're here, I guarantee it. Whatever you do, never let her talk you into grooming her cat. The thing is the devil incarnate. Maureen will bat those beautiful eyelashes of hers at you, and you'll look into those emerald greens and your soul will be forfeit for your foolishness. You must have a will of iron." 

"I'll do my best, but I'm sure I can handle a cat--"

"That's what the last one said. We threw his body into the river with no regrets."

Merlin turned to look at Gwaine with wide eyes, and the other man merely laughed in response. 

"Come on, then. We've a friend of yours to find, don't we?"

"I think I'm beginning to regret my acquaintance with you, Gwaine."

"I don't believe that for a second." Gwaine's eyes twinkled as he turned to walk out the door. "Coming?"

* * *

The Twelve Pins was a relatively quiet pub and inn. The man tending the bar was blond and rather stout and he greeted Gwaine with a brief nod. 

"Bit odd for you to come by my place, isn't it?" He asked gruffly.

"What can I say, I missed you, Tony." 

"That's Mr. Kiely to you, you ruffian." 

"Yes, sir." Gwaine raised his hand in a mock salute. "Two stouts if you don't mind."

"I do mind, but I'll pour em anyway." As soon as the man turned, two dark beers in hand, Gwaine placed the payment on the counter, which the man wasted no time in pocketing.

"What time will Kitty be in today?"

"Not for another hour. Will you be working over at the Hydra and Hare while you're here?"

"If they'll have me."

"Well, if they won't...I'm sure Kitty wouldn't mind an extra pair of hands." Was all the man said before walking into a backroom.

"He seems pleasant." Merlin remarked, earning him a playful elbow to the ribs.

"He's not, but you should see the man's racing pigeons. They're truly a beautiful thing as they soar."

"I didn't even know you could race pigeons." 

"I'm fairly certain the man has a gift with the birds. I've never seen anything like it." Gwaine laughed, taking a long drink from his beer. "I've no idea how Kitty puts up with the man. He'd drive me up a wall. I never know what to make of people who hide so much of themselves. I've known the man for most of my life and I still couldn't tell you a thing about him save that he owns this place and he races pigeons. I'm not even certain as to how Kitty entered the picture, honestly. She just showed up one day and won over all of Dublin. Tony likes her because she keeps the IRB's incessant politicking at bay when they choose to come here for a pint."

Merlin frowned at the look of obvious distaste on Gwaine's face. "What's the...IRB?"

"Irish Republican Brotherhood. They're a group of revolutionaries hell-bent on separating Ireland from Great Britain."

Merlin's frown only deepened at that explanation. "But I thought...isn't the unity of the two a good thing?"

"Can't say I have a preference one way or the other. All I care about is that there are taverns to rest my weary feet at every once in a while. I couldn't care less about what the rest of the country is doing."

Merlin fell quiet at that, focusing his attention on the beer in front of him. It wasn't his place to have an opinion, after all, he'd been withdrawn from the world for a long time. But still, something in his heart told him that all of Albion needed to be united, and this land felt just as much like Albion as the shores of Avalon did. 

A group of men entering the tavern interrupted his thoughts, and he heard Gwaine let out a quiet curse. 

"D'anam don diabhal!" At Merlin's questioning look, Gwaine shook his head. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Those gents? They're part of the IRB. A major part." Gwaine glanced over his shoulder again and let out another curse. "And that's James Connolly with them. What the devil are they doing sharing company?"

"Who's that?" 

"He's one of the founders of the Irish Citizen Army, a socialist at heart. Him being here, with them? Nothing good can come of it, mark my words." 

His dour mood was lifted as the door to the tavern opened again, this time a pretty girl with long brown curls coming through the door. "I'll be right with you boys, alright?" She smiled as she passed the congregating group of men, then walked straight up to Gwaine and Merlin. "I can't believe you let Tony pour your beer."

"He doesn't do it as well as you, love, but we must suffer for our loves sometimes." He shrugged. "Pour me another so I can pick your brain?"

"You can pick my brain after I finish with this lot." She retorted, reaching over the bar to snatch a white apron, which she tied around her waist before walking over to the group of men. By the time she was done serving them, Gwaine and Merlin had both finished their beers and she wasted no time in pouring Gwaine another dark stout, then pouring a lighter brew for Merlin. At his questioning look, she shrugged. 

"You just seem like a lighter beer type of man. So. What can I do for you?" She leaned across the bar, resting her weight on her forearms.

"I'm looking for a friend. Rather tall, curly hair, slight beard, accent like mine?" 

Kitty closed her eyes for a moment, then made a small noise of triumph. "Leon, wasn't it? Ordered that very brew and was sweeter than any others of your type have ever been to me. No offense, love." She shot an apologetic look to Merlin. "It's just...things are hard, what with the war, and these lot wanting a civil war on our own lands." Her voice was low as she spoke, and Merlin and Gwaine had to lean closer to hear her. "Your friend was curious about them, wanted to know more about them. If you want to find your friend, I'd start with them."

Merlin shot Gwaine a pleading look, but the other man shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s not going to happen. You want to throw your luck in with them, be my guest, but I’ll have no part of it.” He quickly finished his beer, then slammed the glass down on the bar top. “I’m going out for a bit. People to see and all that. See you back at the flat.” He said shortly, leaving Merlin to stare after him in confusion.

“What’s his—”

“He’s got history with the IRB, but I’m sorry…it’s not my place to say it.” She gave him another apologetic look, and he quickly waved her off.

“No, no you’re right. He’ll tell me if he wants to and if not, then it’s none of my business.” Merlin took a quick sip of his ale, smiling in surprise at how much he liked the taste. It reminded him of the meads in Camelot’s taverns, and tasted like home. 

“Your friend liked that brew, too. Said it was familiar to him.” Kitty smiled. “I’m guessing you’ve got ales like it back where you’re from?”

“Something like that. Sorry, it’s all a bit…complicated.” 

“Don’t worry about it, love. We’ve all got stories we love to share, and others we keep close to our hearts.”

Merlin nodded gratefully, then sighed. “How…how was he? He was here a fortnight ago, wasn’t he? How did he seem?”

“Been apart for a while, have you?” She gave him a sympathetic look, and he nodded. “Well, you’ll be happy to know he seemed right as rain, save for a mite worried about the war going on, and like I mentioned earlier, genuinely concerned about what those lot are getting up to. Your friend doesn’t seem to like conflict.”

“He used to have no problems when it came to facing fights. But now… well I suppose he lost the will to stand.” 

“He’s lucky to have a friend like you to look out for him. You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?” 

“I have. But…he’s been my friend for almost as long as I can remember. I would hate to lose him just because the world’s gone insane. He’s my only friend.” 

“Not anymore.” Kitty grinned knowingly, gesturing to the tavern door which had reopened. 

“No, I suppose not.” Merlin smiled fondly in response as Gwaine strode through the tavern and firmly planted himself in the seat next to Merlin.

“I’m sorry for storming off on you. It wasn’t you, I’m just… a hothead sometimes. But I’m Irish, it’s in my blood!” 

Merlin didn’t have the heart to tell him that the hotheadedness had nothing to do with his Irish blood and everything to do with his soul, so instead he clapped Gwaine on the back. “Not to worry, I didn’t take it personally. I’ll be better about all this from now on, alright?”

“Thank you.” Gwaine sighed in relief as Kitty passed over another glass of stout. “After this, we’ll…we’ll try to find your friend, alright? I just need a bit of liquid courage, that’s all.”

“I think we’ve done enough searching for the day, don’t you? If he’s here, I’m sure he’s fine. There’s no pressing need to find him today.” Merlin replied quietly, still sipping at his own ale. 

“Then I’ll show you the rest of the city. It’s a gorgeous place, and as good as the company is here, there are beautiful sights to be seen outside those doors.”

“Sounds lovely.” 

Merlin didn’t miss the assessing look Kitty gave the pair of them, nor the way she smiled before turning away. It made something in his heart clench, but he dared not name what it was, or how it made him feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:  
> *“ D'anam don diabhal!”—your soul to the devil! (a curse of frustration, ie “shit!”)


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the day was spent amiably wandering around Dublin, and Merlin enjoyed every moment of it. Gwaine was an animated guide, always ready with a story for every person they passed, whether it be Tommy Flanagan who’d apparently been lighting the lamps in Phoenix Park for thirty seven years, drunk every one of them, or Tim Finnegan who’d crashed his own wake, or “Mad” John Maher who had a beautiful singing voice despite also having a face like “hammered meat”. Everything was a story to Gwaine, and every story was a dear friend. It made Merlin smile, to see a man so passionate about everything and everyone he met and yet who was also hell-bent on not growing attached to one place. 

“I’ve told you already, this land is my home. I don’t need to hail from a city to belong everywhere I go.”

“And yet you truly belong nowhere at all.” Merlin remarked as he trailed behind Gwaine. Rather than being offended, Gwaine barked out a laugh.

“And it’s a beautiful thought isn’t it? Honestly, Merlin. How many times have you detested the four walls you lived in? How many times have you felt caged?”

Merlin was quiet for a moment, all-too familiar with the trapped feeling Gwaine was talking about. How many times in his youth had he cursed Kilgharrah’s prophecies tying him to the Once and Future King? How many times had he tried to escape fate only to feel its cruelty like a noose around his throat as she took away everything he held dear? And yet here, on the streets of Dublin with Gwaine… it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He didn’t have to be bound by fate because here, it was as though fate had slipped. Fate had taken Gwaine from him years before, on the same day it robbed him of his king, and yet…here Gwaine was. Standing before him with the same carefree smile, the same wrinkles around his eyes, the same shaggy brown hair that he’d mocked the knight for all those years ago. The true miracle here was not only that Gwaine was alive and breathing, but also that he’d been drawn to Merlin just as he had in the tavern on their first meeting. He’d never been able to explain the instant connection he and Gwaine had, nor the reason he’d sought out Gwaine when he needed help after only knowing the man for a few days. He was beginning to wonder whether or not he and Gwaine were always fated to have that bond, and also how deep that bond had ran without Merlin even realizing it. He’d taken Gwaine for granted, and as the pair walked along the streets of the liveliest city he’d ever been in, he swore he wouldn’t let the same thing occur again. Not if he had any say in the matter.  


Because here, they weren’t Gwaine the knight and Merlin the servant. They were Gwaine the wanderer and Merlin the hermit. There were no death threats to the king to be dealt with in secret, no kingdom to protect. There was simply…them. And Merlin found he was beginning to like that new dynamic, that freedom. 

“Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to send you on a journey. Still with me?” Gwaine asked, coming to a stop so he could stand in front of Merlin, examining him with worry in his features.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here. Just…you made me think, that’s all. And…you’re right. I suppose I hadn’t even been aware of my own cage.”

“A lifetime of mostly solitude will do that to you. This is why I make it a point to spend at least half my day in a tavern. Human interaction is good for the soul.”

“No, you spend half your day in the taverns because there’s gossip to be had and beer to be consumed.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Gwaine laughed. “Speaking of, I’d say it’s about time for lunch, wouldn’t you?” He nodded towards an establishment claiming to be the “Hydra and the Hare”, which was far larger than the Twelve Pins and looked to be already filling up for the midday meal. 

“Sounds good to me.” Merlin nodded, making no move to protest as Gwaine wrapped an arm around his shoulders to steer him towards the pub. It was much more crowded than the previous pub they’d attended and Merlin found himself gravitating closer to Gwaine, even as they took a seat at the crowded bar. His knees knocked against Gwaine’s under the ledge, and the other male flashed him a grin before turning his attention to the bartender. 

“Molly, love, two pints of ale and the lunch special?” 

The blonde nodded at his request and quickly placed the two almost overflowing mugs on the bar in front of them. “Be back in two ticks with your lunch. Try not to miss me too much, won’t you?” She winked before turning on her heel and heading into the kitchen towards the back of the pub. 

“This might be an odd question but…is bartending a primarily female profession?” Merlin asked, taking a long drink from his ale. It was a bit stronger than the last pint he’d had, but he supposed that wouldn’t be a bad thing since he’d be cutting the alcohol with food this time. 

“It didn’t used to be, but you know. With the war going on…” Gwaine shrugged. “Men leave to fight battles that aren’t theirs and the women left behind have to pick up the reins. Molly there has three wee ones at home, but she’s here every morning at eight and doesn’t leave until half past ten at night some days. She’s one of the hardest workers I’ve ever met.”

“Well if you’d come back and help now and again, I wouldn’t have to work so hard now would I?” Molly retorted as she returned, two steaming plates of…something in her hands. “Someone has to keep a watch over this place while Brady’s away.”

“I’ll stop in for a bit while I’m here, alright? No need to get out of sorts about it.” Gwaine rolled his eyes as he took the two plates from her. 

“I certainly hope so. Taking the morning shift would help me out a great deal. Saoirse’s started teething, the little firecracker, and Kelly’s started learning his letters and Abbey’s been tryin to help out, but the lass is only ten, she doesn’t need to be rearing my babies.” Molly crossed her arms over her chest, the briefest expression of worry present on her features before she shook her head and smiled. “But no matter. Do what you can dear. If you need anything, holler.” She gave them a brief wave, then set out to attend the other pub-goers, a smile on her face and laughter on her lips despite the amount of stress she was clearly under.

“Brady went off to war, leaving the poor lass on her own.” Gwaine explained quietly, picking at the green substance on his plate and taking a bite. 

“She’s a very strong woman. I admire her for being able to take her husband’s responsibilities so readily. She looks as though she’s been doing this her entire life.” Merlin remarked, suddenly reminded of another woman who’d had to take unexpected responsibilities after her husband’s death. Camelot had thrived under Guinevere, from what Leon had told Merlin, but the warlock himself had never returned to his home, far too heartbroken over the loss of his king. Merlin shook his head to clear his mind, then began picking at the food on his plate. “What is all this anyway?”

“Arán bocht ti, bacon and cabbage!” Gwaine explained pointing to each item on the plate. “Arán bocht ti, that’s the loaf-looking thing here, it’s like…a potato pancake. Nothing too strange.” He grinned. “There’s nothing like Molly’s arán bocht ti. It’s the best in all of Ireland, and I’d know since I’ve tried almost everyone’s.” 

The bacon looked a bit more like sliced ham than the bacon he was used to, but it smelled fair enough, so he decided to try that first, cutting off a little piece with the fork he’d been provided. “Mm, that’s good.”

“Wait till you try the rest of it.” Gwaine winked, digging into his own plate and happily devouring another bite of the potato loaf. Merlin followed suit and began trying the rest of the food on his plate, surprised at how much he genuinely liked all of it. 

“Nothing like this back home, eh?” Gwaine asked, nudging Merlin’s knee under the bar with his own.

Merlin merely shrugged in response, realizing that unless Leon was staying with him, he barely ate. Magic sustained his body, kept him immortal and powerful and young, and he’d begun to rely on it more than the air that he breathed. Leon had warned him that there was no way that could be healthy, but Merlin had merely shrugged and reminded him that it wasn’t as though he was using his magic for anything else. The protective spell over his shack and Avalon required no energy to keep up, save for when he’d cast an additional spell of protection before he’d left for the adventure he was currently embarking on. 

“Thought not. Aren’t you glad we met each other so you could broaden your horizons?” Gwaine winked and returned to his meal, taking a drink from his ale every now and again. They ate in companionable silence for a little while, but Merlin’s ears perked up as he heard a familiar voice, one of the men from the pub earlier. 

“Ran into that bloke again, the curly one. He tried to talk Connolly out of partnering with us, even though he’d already pledged his loyalty to the Brotherhood. I told him it was none of his concern, but he didn’t seem to take the hint.” 

“Sent him off hobbling, did you?” 

“You know me. I pledged my loyalty to the Brotherhood, and part of that means keeping naysayers out of the way. Especially ones from Britain.” 

Merlin’s fingers clenched around his fork, and Gwaine shot him a worried look. “You alright, mate?”

“I think…I think my friend’s hurt. Those men…” Merlin trailed off, and Gwaine glanced in the direction he’d nodded and let out another string of curses. 

“I told you no good could come of any of it.” He muttered. “Alright, let me pay Molly then we’ll go find him, alright?” 

“Thank you.” Merlin said, grateful that Gwaine was so willing to drop everything for him. He slowly realized that this was nothing new. Gwaine had always been ready to drop everything at the drop of the hat if Merlin needed him, no matter the circumstances. He’d been so blinded by everything else going on that he truly had never realized just how good of a friend Gwaine had been to him. And then, the final time Merlin saw him before everything went to hell, he’d blown his chance to tell him the truth about himself, even though there was a part of him that suspected that Gwaine already knew. Regardless, that was all in the past, and Merlin had been miraculously given a second chance, something he had no intentions of botching up. So he grasped Gwaine’s shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze, smiling gratefully before letting his hand drop. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a few bills to cover the cost of his own meal, giving Molly a quick wave before pulling Gwaine out the door. 

“Your friend doesn’t have any friends here in town, does he?” Gwaine asked, and Merlin quickly shook his head. 

“No, there’s just us. He’s a bit like you, always traveling. Makes him damn hard to get a hold of some times.” Merlin shrugged, and Gwaine patted him on the shoulder.

“Not to worry, I know Dublin better than anyone else. There are a few places where travelers go if they don’t fancy a visit with Maureen. The McGowan’s don’t have anything against the British and would likely have given him sanctuary if he needed it. They’ve a small inn, nothing fancy, so if your friend has finer taste—”

“No, no, Leon comes from humble beginnings. He’s got no high expectations or tastes.” Merlin quickly assured him, and Gwaine gave him another smile.

“Well then, let’s start there.” 

* * *

The McGowans’ inn, the Emerald Dragon, was a quaint little place, a little run down in some places, but the family that owned it were full of more than enough smiles and hospitality to make up for it. Oddly enough, it was only an inn with no sign of a bar anywhere near the building, much less within the lodging itself. 

“Cead míle fáilte!” the blonde woman behind the desk greeted them, her smile broadening when she saw Gwaine. “Oh, dear, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you for a while yet! Weren’t you off to—”

“Plans change. You know how I am.” He shrugged and gave her an easy smile. “I was actually hoping you could help us, we’re looking for—”

“Merlin?” A tired voice called out in surprise. Merlin immediately looked to the stairs and a relieved smile crossed his features as his gaze landed on his battered friend.

“Leon! I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, what with the war and whatever other madness is going on here.” Merlin moved towards the stairs, helping his friend descend the steps. He was favoring his left side, he had a black eye, and there was blood on his lip, but other than that he looked well. 

“What are you—” Leon cut himself off as his eyes landed on Gwaine. “My god—”

Merlin quickly cut him off. “Leon, this is Gwaine. I met him in Blackrock and he was kind enough to be my guide through Dublin. The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.” He gave Leon a meaningful look, and the knight’s face fell slightly.

“Right. I’ll leave you two to catch up. I’ll be over at the Hydra and the Hare if you need me, giving Molly a hand. Stacey should be able to give you directions, if you want them.” Gwaine made towards the door, and Merlin quickly moved to grasp his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’ll see you for dinner, alright? Then we’ll go back to Maureen’s. Thank you for your help. It…it means the world to me.” He gave Gwaine a grateful smile, and the other’s somewhat stony expression slowly melted away.

“Alright. Six sharp. Don’t be late.” He smiled, reaching up to clasp Merlin’s hand on his shoulder for a brief moment before leaving the inn. 

There was a moment of awkward silence before Leon finally spoke.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:  
> *“Cead míle fáilte!”—a hundred thousand welcomes!


	7. Chapter 7

Stacey McGowan got them settled in a sitting room off the side of the main room with a cup of tea for each of them. Leon cradled his in his hands, staring into the amber liquid while Merlin sipped mildly at his mug. 

“We knew this day would come didn’t we?” Merlin finally asked quietly, placing his cup on the table between them. “I mean…you saw Percival, didn’t you? Back in 1607, wasn’t it?” 

“Before the flood, yes. And Elyan, back in the 1300s.” Leon’s expression was dark as he spoke. “And the plague took him. But, Merlin… they remembered who they were, when I met them. Said they had for almost a fortnight. It came to them like a bolt from the blue… And Gwaine doesn’t remember anything?”

“Nothing. He’s…some of the things he’s said and done, I would swear up and down it was exactly like similar incidents back…back then. But he didn’t recognize me, still thinks that we’ve only just met.”

“And he still…took to you?”

“Much like the first Gwaine did, yes. You’ll remember our friendship was a bit sudden back then as well.” Merlin reminded him.

“That’s not what concerns me, Merlin. Percival and Elyan? They were almost three hundred years apart.”

“And another three hundred years puts us here, doesn’t it?” 

“That’s not…” Leon shook his head. “It should have been one reincarnation, if that’s what this is. But… Merlin, I’ve seen Morgana.”

Merlin paled at the name, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “What…what did she—”

“She said she was sorry. She remembered who she was and…by the time I found her…She had the consumption. There was nothing I could do except be by her side while she…while she died. That’s why I couldn’t come visit you this winter, I was with her, and I know I should have told you but… I was afraid you’d be cross with me. And I know she destroyed our lives but… she was so full of sorrow, Merlin. I truly think she was repentant for everything she did.”

“She destroyed…she killed so many. I can’t just—”

“I’m not asking you to forgive her, Merlin. She’s been dead for almost a month now and…it would do no one any good to fret over that now. But I will say this… She discovered the truth of her existence, of the existence of everyone who’s returned to this world. She always had a gift of foresight, didn’t she?”

“Yes. It was part of her destruction, in the end.” 

“Well, she said that… All of them were born into this world as normal human beings, nothing spectacular about them save for possessing a face similar to a soul we knew back in Camelot. But then something happens. She called it a mark of mastery, something that happens that defines a person, and that’s when the soul sleeping inside of them awakens, and brings with it the memories and experiences of their past life.”

“So, you’re saying that Gwaine hasn’t truly become himself yet and that once he does, he’ll remember who he was and we…we can start to rebuild our world?” Merlin asked, barely daring to hope. Leon’s slow nod caused his heart to soar, but the words he spoke quickly sent it crashing back down.

“But Merlin… once they remember…their souls can’t exist here. She says they’re drifters, unable to hold on to this world because they need…they need an anchor. She seemed to think that was Arthur.”

Something in Merlin’s chest clenched painfully at the name, and Leon hurriedly apologized. “I’m sorry, I forgot—”

“No, no… it’s fine. I mean… with two souls returning so close to each other…surely that means his return is nigh, does it not?”

“I’m not sure, Merlin, and Morgana didn’t seem too certain either.” Leon sighed, reaching for his cup of tea and taking a few sips out of it. “But the important thing to remember is that…as soon as Gwaine remembers who he is, his time will be numbered. I know you’re powerful Merlin, stronger and wiser than even your years but… I worry for you. I’m not sure how you’ll take losing him a second time.”

“I can handle myself, Leon. There’s no need to worry. Besides, this Gwaine… seems rooted in who he is. I doubt anything could happen that could be described as a ‘life defining moment’ considering the man does nothing but wander and drink.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Merlin. With everything going on with the war, not to mention what’s brewing with the Irish Republican Brotherhood—”

“Firstly, Gwaine is adamantly opposed to even discussing them, much less having anything to do with them. Secondly…why are you so concerned about that lot?”

Leon looked away in obvious discomfort, causing Merlin to nudge him with his foot. 

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Morgana’s brother is involved with them. I promised her I’d look out for him, and… She’s convinced he’ll die if they go through with these plans of rebellion.”

“So….you’ve just gotten yourself beaten to a pulp to honor the dying wish of the woman who almost singlehandedly destroyed everything we’ve ever loved?” 

“Not my brightest idea, by far, but… I felt as though I owed it to her. Uther was cruel to her by hiding her true patronage and not raising her as a proper princess, and she endured a great deal at the hands of Camelot’s enemies. She was evil because…she had no one to guide her when she was first discovering her magic. It’s no wonder she succumbed to the more evil of your ilk because at least they were helping her. She was alone and we…no one did anything to help her. And that breaks my heart. A great deal of time has passed since the fall of Camelot, and it’s made me wonder…how could things have gone differently? If we’d helped her instead of pushing her away, if Uther hadn’t banned magic, if Gaius had helped her instead of giving her sleeping draughts for most of her life, even. So many variables that could have potentially saved us all, and every one having to do with showing kindness instead of judgment. Think, you and she could have learned together! Just imagine all the good you two could have accomplished side by side if you hadn’t been put at odds.”

“There’s no point in dwelling on any of that, though. She’s long gone, is she not?” 

“Her memory remains, though, and I feel as though I owe it to her.”

“Well, that is your choice, and your debt. I’ll have nothing to do with it and honestly, Leon? I wish you wouldn’t either. I’ve lost too many friends because of her and… I would hate it if you became one of them.”

“Merlin, please. I’m immortal, remember. What’s the worst that could come of trying to stop a revolution?” Leon teased, giving Merlin a brief smile. 

“Plenty of things could go wrong, and you’re fully aware of all of them, Sir Leon. My concern lies with the fact that…you haven’t fought in years. Getting involved with something like this… is it really a cause that important to you that you would pick up the sword once again?”

“Merlin…with two reincarnations so close together, I’m sure now more than ever that the return of our king is imminent. I’ll not return to his court and be unable to fight. It would be dishonorable and would indicate that I…that I’d squandered all the time fate has given me. I was dedicated to the sword once, could best even our king in a duel if I felt like losing my head.” A fond grin crossed his lips at the memory, and even Merlin couldn’t fight the smile that grew on his own lips. “And yet, here I am, most likely a worse fighter than I’ve ever been. That’s a gross violation of the knight’s code and I—”

“Leon, your commitment to honor a dying woman’s wish despite all the evil she’s wrought upon us speaks volumes as to how committed you still are to the knight’s code.” Merlin’s smile softened into something genuine, something fond. “Arthur would be proud of you. Gwen as well.”

Perhaps it was merely the poor lighting of the room, but it seemed as though Leon’s eyes glistened slightly at that, and he quickly cleared his throat and blinked rapidly, and whatever had been present was gone. 

“Thank you.” Leon said, reaching for his now-cold cup of tea and taking a sip, then grimacing as he realized how cold it had gotten. Without thinking, Merlin muttered a quick spell, his eyes flashed golden, and the cups were emitting steam once again. Leon blinked in surprise, then gave Merlin a confused look. “You haven’t done magic—”

“I was in a mood. Don’t hold it against me.” Merlin retorted, taking a quick drink from his own cup. 

Leon was quiet for a moment, his facial expression almost assessing in the silence. “You know…you seem different from when I last saw you.”

“How so?” Merlin asked, suddenly averting his gaze, not entirely certain he wanted the answer to that question. 

“Happier.” Leon said simply. “Gwaine…he always had a soft spot for you, you know. He always called you his best friend, even after he and Percy became thick as thieves and you got caught up in all the monarchial drama and plots.”

Merlin’s face fell at the reminder of just how much he’d neglected Gwaine those years, how many times he’d blown the knight off so he could be by his king’s side, even when his presence was far from necessary. 

“I’m glad, for what it’s worth.” Leon continued. “That he’s still fond of you and that…that you’ve got another chance. I would just advise you to be cautious. Losing him…it will be worse this time around, I think.” 

“You’re right. But…if Arthur returns, there’s a chance everyone else will too, isn’t there?”

“Well, yes, but… are you certain you want to risk that? Wouldn’t it be easier to just… say goodbye now? Save yourself the heartache?”

“Leon…I all but abandoned him the last time we were together. I’m not going to do it again. Just like you feel as though you owe Morgana, I feel as though I owe him this at the very least.” 

Leon nodded at that. “And I respect you for that. If you need me… I won’t return to Avalon, not without you. So I’ll stay here until you come for me, alright? I owe you that just as much as I owe anyone anything. I can’t imagine what the past years would have been like without you. Something close to unbearable, I imagine.”

“I still have no idea how you’ve survived this long, or what’s granted you this immortality, but…I’m grateful for your company as well. Even though I don’t always show it.” 

“Yes, well. I imagine you’re simply attempting to stay true to the character that has permeated through cultures bearing your name.”

“Are you insinuating that the reason why everyone thinks the great wizard Merlin was a wise yet grouchy old man is because I have the soul of a wise yet grouchy old man?” Merlin asked, feigning outrage. 

“I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Not entirely, no. You’re right, I’m far too grumpy for my own good. Maybe…once all this is over, I’ll travel with you some. You’ve been thinking about going to America, have you not?”

“The idea has been turning around in my mind for quite some time, yes.” Leon admitted. “But there’s no way to tell how the world will be after this war is over. We’ll make plans after. Maybe try to help some of those who have been negatively affected by the war.”

“That…is actually not a terrible idea. But you’re right, we’ll make plans once it all blows over.” Merlin smiled softly. He glanced at the clock over the mantel and winced. “But…I should go to Gwaine. I don’t think he was terribly happy when he left, and I don’t want him to think I’ve abandoned him.”

“It’s fine, go to your friend. I’ll be around if you need me.” Leon smiled as Merlin rose to his feet, reaching out to clasp Merlin’s forearm as he walked past him. Merlin clasped Leon’s arm in return, giving him a grateful smile before leaving the room.


	8. Chapter 8

When Merlin found Gwaine, it was in the middle of a rush at the Hydra and Hare and the male barely had time to spare Merlin a smile before he was rushing off to help another guest. Molly was nowhere in sight, and Merlin silently sent a prayer of goodwill and blessings her way, since she likely wasn’t getting any rest due to all the work she still had to do in her own home. Merlin casually took a seat at a small table in the back, smiling gratefully when Gwaine swung by with a pint of lighter ale. 

When it seemed as though everyone had been served, Gwaine slid into the booth next to Merlin, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulder as someone across the bar began to sing. 

“Oh, I love this song!” He exclaimed, raising his voice to join in and removing his arm from Merlin’s shoulder so he could clap in the pattern which was expected. By the time the second chorus came around, Merlin was clapping along, being able to pick up the simple pattern of four claps, two claps, then a final clap before the end of the chorus. Gwaine even managed to get him to sing by the time the final chorus came around.

“No, nay never no more! Will he play the wild rover, no never no more!” Merlin laughed along with Gwaine, collapsing against the other man’s side. 

“See, this is why Dublin is the greatest city in all the world. If you give men enough to drink, they’ll burst into song. This pub, though. Is the best. This is a pub for men who love to get drunk and raise true feckin’ hell, and I love it for that very reason.” 

“Don’t you get tired of it, though? The constant wandering, the drink, the mirth? Don’t you ever wish for something…more?” 

Gwaine’s smile faltered, and he gave a brief shrug in response. His eyes were somehow darker when he looked over at Merlin. “Guess I’ve never really had a reason to settle down before.”

Merlin’s eyes widened slightly and he quickly cleared his throat and reached for his ale. “Yes, well. No reason to start now, right? You’ve still got plenty of wandering to do.” 

Gwaine’s expression fell somewhat, and Merlin leaned over to nudge him in the side.

“You can’t settle down just yet. You have a promise to fulfill.” Merlin said solemnly. At Gwaine’s questioning look, he grinned. “You promised to show me all of Ireland. You can’t stop at Dublin.”

“How very right you are. Sorry about that, don’t know what I was thinking. Come on then, another round, I think someone’s about to start another song.” Gwaine laughed, waltzing away to fill their drinks again. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure as to what all had transpired between them, but he found that whatever it was didn’t bother him. Rather, it intrigued him. The way that Gwaine had looked at him…he wasn’t sure he’d ever been the subject of such a gaze. Not even as much as he would have wished it from—

“Clearly I took too long to bring a drink. You’ve gone off into your own world again.” Gwaine set the glasses down in front of Merlin, then poked him gently in the head. “Don’t do that, alright? I’ve got to go keep an eye on the bar, but…don’t leave alright? I’ll be around.”

Merlin smiled somewhat fondly in response to Gwaine’s statement, raising his glass in brief salute as the male walked away. Watching Gwaine run the pub was surprisingly fun. The movements he made were familiar as he made his way around the room, making sure no drink was ever empty, nor was any face without a smile. The way the man would wrap an arm around a patron’s shoulders and take up whatever song was being sung, or congratulate and join in whatever was being toasted, each mannerism was familiar to Merlin from the life they’d shared years before. And as Gwaine met his eyes from across the room and gave him that heart-wrenchingly familiar smile, Merlin was surprised to realize what that feeling in his chest was… it felt like home. 

***

It was after a particularly sorrowful ballad that Gwaine declared that it was last call and began collecting tabs and ushering out the various patrons. Some left the pub entirely, others headed up to the various rooms upstairs that they’d either paid for earlier or persuaded Gwaine to lease them while closing their tab. When the final patron left the bar, Merlin rose to his feet and began helping Gwaine tidy the messes that had gathered around the room.

For one moment, a fleeting moment at the most, Merlin wished he could be open about his magic, could just flick his wrist and rid the place entirely of grime and dirty glasses and spilled drinks. But he was already hiding much of the truth from this Gwaine, and his magic was something that he’d hidden from his friend in his previous life, and he felt that something so serious, so intimately a part of him should have a better reveal than simply showing it off so casually. 

So instead of taking the easy way out, as he’d done so many times years ago, he opted to pick up one of the spare rags to mop up the puddle of beer that had pooled under one of the tables.

“Merlin, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really.” Merlin flashed him a smile, then moved to join Gwaine in wiping off the bar top. “My last m—employer.” He quickly amended, uncertain of the current cultural meaning of the term ‘master’. “He used to make me scrub everything. Stables, windows, even his dirty boots…”

Something akin to recognition flashed in Gwaine’s eyes at that and for a fleeting moment, Merlin swore his Gwaine was looking back at him, as though they were back in the earlier days of their acquaintance, polishing the knight’s boots instead of the stained wood of the bar. But then Gwaine blinked, and the moment was gone. 

“So, uh. This is really nothing. Pleasant in comparison, really.” Merlin shrugged, attempting to regain his train of thought.

“He sounds like a nupe head.” At Merlin’s questioning look, Gwaine laughed and paused for a moment before explaining. “A prat.”

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” They lapsed into a somewhat awkward silence after that until much later, when Gwaine poured two mugs of the thick stout Merlin had been drinking earlier over to the table Merlin had moved to clean.

“To a job well done and company worth a thousand pints and then some!” he offered the toast, raising his glass towards Merlin’s. The wizard raised his own in response and clinked it lightly against Gwaine’s, replying softly:  
“To friends.”

‘Friends’ Merlin thought quietly to himself as he took a drink from his glass mug, silently wondering if that word even applied to them. There was something… different about their connection. Something that hadn’t been there in Gwaine’s past life, at least not that Merlin had been aware of. The way that Gwaine looked at him sometimes made something in his stomach clench, almost with anticipation. But more often than that expression was worn by his friend, there was one that was undeniably fond. It made him smile, made his heart warm in ways that it hadn’t in centuries. Merlin was pulled from his thoughts when Gwaine reached over and squeezed his hand gently.

“I’ve lost you again.”

“Sorry, just… thinking, that’s all.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“You.” Merlin answered honestly, and Gwaine grinned in response, lifting his mug to his lips.

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“No, just…contemplating, that’s all.” Merlin smiled lightly, and Gwaine’s hand on his tightened for the briefest of moments before he pulled away. 

“You know, Merlin…I know we’ve only just met, but there’s a part of me that feels as though I’ve known you my whole life. Or was meant to, if you believe in things like fate.” 

Something in Merlin’s chest tightened at that, and he reached over to take Gwaine’s hand, linking their fingers together. “I feel the same. And whatever it was that lead us to each other, I’m grateful for it. Your…companionship means the world to me.”

Gwaine’s smile was so heartbreakingly familiar, so undeniably fond that Merlin couldn’t help but squeeze the fingers between his own, cherishing that warmth that spread through his entire being at such a simple and innocent sign of affection. 

“You as well.” Gwaine finally replied, his voice quiet and fond before his grin broadened into something playful. “Come, now. The night is young and we’ve got plenty of beer to go through before the sun rises. No reason to let such a perfect opportunity go to waste.”

“How very right you are. After all, who knows when such an opportunity will present itself again?” Merlin raised his glass in a mock toast, which Gwaine happily met.

“May our glasses never be empty, may joy and blessings come our way, and may we never have to lift the parting glass.” Gwaine laughed as he clinked his glass against Merlin’s.

“Now that, I’ll drink to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art for this chapter is at http://disco-mouse.deviantart.com/art/Parting-Glass-Illustration-1-436469837
> 
> Done by the lovely disco-mouse, without whom this story would not have been possible.


End file.
